Seeing The Light
October 18, 2007
Most days my mother and I go walking from 5 to 6 AM. It’s very hard to get up that early in the morning, but the fact that I know she will be waiting for me makes me drag myself out of bed. She lives next door, and the deal is that whoever is up first turns their light on so that the other knows she is awake. Her light is usually on first. When it’s not, I generally assume that she isn’t going walking, so I go back to bed. There are lots of days that I make the trip from the bedroom to the bathroom praying that her light isn’t on, so that I can get an extra hour of sleep.
Monday morning I did that very thing. I got to the bathroom, and sure enough, I was greeted by darkness coming from her direction. I did my business, turned the bathroom light off, and was headed back to sleepytown, when I looked back. I know better. Never, ever look back, right. Her light was on.
Oh, how I wanted nothing better but to go back to bed, but I knew that I would have to endure lectures about how we need to be committed to this, she’s just concerned for my health, blah blah blah, so I laced up my Nike’s and went outside.
During the walk she told me that she hadn’t wanted to get up that morning. So much so, that she had stood in her bathroom (which faces my bathroom) in the dark watching for my light to come on, and if my light didn’t come on she was going to go back to bed.
I laughed and told her that was pathetic.
The next morning it rained, and the morning after that I got up and gave her about 30 seconds to get her light turned on. When she didn’t, I went back to bed. This morning there were thunderstorm warnings, so we slept in.
I swear, we should be personal trainers or something.